Oasis
by lundyn
Summary: An orc and human must form a truce to survive. M!Orc/F!Human Contains male/female nudity, sexual situations, and depictions of fresh battle wounds. WIP
1. Chapter 1

_This story contains what some might deem as heavy depictions of blood and injury. This is not intended to be a gore fic, and I tried to keep descriptions accurate without being blatantly gut wrenching. _

_There is also male nudity in this chapter, with more nudity and sex to come._

_I own nothing. Comments, constructive criticisms, etc, are always welcome. Please enjoy._

* * *

Layla staggered underneath the burning heat of the midday sun. For a moment, the priestess leaned on her tall staff to rest her aching body. Her time spent in this barren wasteland had not gone as planned. Luck had been against her from the very beginning, and she had unintentionally disrupted some of the local wildlife, gotten lost, stumbled into a town that belonged to the enemy, and escaped with her life - only to disturb more creatures and fall into a patch of bramble thorns.

Now the young human female was wounded, lost, parched, starving, and melting under the sun.

She had been searching for shelter for hours; she needed a place where she could rest, regain her strength, and tend to her wounds. While she had used her healing magic on her most dire injuries, it had sapped all of her magical strength. Although she still had many cuts and bruises that needed to be treated, Layla knew that now she was more in danger of dying from heat exhaustion and dehydration.

With a weak groan, she moved forward on her journey to find shelter. Afraid she would fall over and never get back up, she used her staff for extra support. Using one hand, Layla swept a sticky clump of her long brown hair from her face so she could see better. Then, in the distance, she saw what she had been searching for: an oasis.

Filled with a sudden burst of energy, Layla hurried toward the tall trees and grass that meant water and life.

* * *

Grom'thor's sweat poured down his face, into his eyes, where the salty liquid burned terribly. The blistering sun was no friend to the orc warrior, who was clad in heavy plate armor. He had considered removing the armor, but that would have left him exposed and defenseless. That would not do at all. He had even forced himself to drag his giant two-handed sword along the ground despite his exhaustion. Grom'thor refused to appear weak.

His armor hid the gashes and spilled blood he had suffered in the ambush. The enemies had been cowards who had chosen to lie in hiding and fight him five to one. Grom'thor had driven his attackers off, of course, though he knew it had been just barely possible. He had been badly hurt in the fight, but the adrenaline from his rage had kept him fighting until the end. Two of his attackers had died at his feet, he was proud to say. The other three had run off, all heavily wounded. Based on the injuries he knew his sword had inflicted upon the cowards, they were all likely in a state similar to his own - or dead, if they had not found help yet.

Delirious from loss of blood, the oppressive heat of the sun, and lack of water, Grom'thor had managed to get himself lost in a part of the world he had always known like the back of his green hand. His mind had an inkling of where he might be - yet even if he was somehow right, he was still too far from an encampment to make it there alive.

His knees felt as though they would give out any moment now. Was this to be his end? Alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no one to honor him? Grom'thor refused to believe that it would be so.

In the distance, he saw something twinkling from the bright sun, and raised his gloved hand to shade his eyes. Before him, though still a ways off, was an oasis. . . or perhaps it was a mirage. Yet, Grom'thor knew he had to take that chance, and he trudged onward with his mouth dry from thirst.

* * *

Layla stumbled through the brush of the lush oasis and came upon its life source: a lake. Its waters glittered like crystals in the sunlight. It was very much a sight for sore eyes. She surveyed the clearing and noticed the opening of a cave jutting out from a formation of hill and rocks, an opening that had been previously hidden by the tall trees. _Shelter!_ All she had to do was fill her water skins and make her way to the cave for some much-needed sleep.

But a rustling in the thick brush startled her so much that Layla dropped her staff and almost fell to her knees.

When a large and powerful looking orc stepped into the clearing that surrounded the lake, it took all of her willpower not to scream. She stared with despair at the intruder to her newfound sanctuary. It had taken everything within her to make it this far alive, only for it now to be quashed by a random encounter with a beastly orc.

He was perhaps some thirty feet away from her, but his armor covered most distinguishing features. Still, it was clear that before her, a fearsome warrior stood. His armor was a dark silver grey that reflected the light bouncing off from the lake. The orc's helmet covered most of his face, but the green of his lips and the shocking white of what were undoubtedly tusks jutting from his mouth were unmistakable.

Even if the telltale green skin had not been visible, there was no mistaking him for a friend. He was too tall - too wide - to be a human, and he lacked the odd goat-like legs of a draenei. Layla's knees quaked, but somehow she managed to stay upright as the two opponents stared at one another.

Grom'thor was surprised to find anyone, let alone a frail human female, at the refuge of his oasis. He quickly corrected himself; she looked frail, but a female out here, all alone, was hardly frail. So many of his kind underestimated the scrawny humans because of their size, without considering the circumstances. Despite his beleaguered state of mind, he looked her over, evaluating the threat as best as he could.

Like most human women, this one was short. Of course, many humans were short and small compared to an orc of his size. Her skin was pale, but clearly recently sunburnt across her face and arms. He grunted - pink skins. The woman's hair was auburn, unbound, and went past her shoulders from what he could see. That was another thing Grom'thor did not understand about humans. They would let their hair grow long, but never tie it back. He knew from experience how long hair could, and frequently, would get in the way during battle.

She was clothed in a white and blue robe lined with silver that winked at him in the sunlight. The robe looked dirty, torn and disheveled, but he knew his sight was blurry with fatigue. He could simply be imagining her disheveled appearance. With no minion nearby, this woman was either a priest or a mage. Either one could be potentially deadly.

Grom'thor clasped both hands around the hilt of his sword that he still dragged along behind him. It weighed more than ever now, but he was not an orc who would go down without a fight. He raised his large sword as high as his strength would allow, released a fierce battle cry, and started into a sluggish charge.

Layla's eyes went wide in fear as she saw the sword that would dwarf her in size, let alone cleave her in twain. As the orc rushed at her, she could not suppress her scream and her knees finally gave way beneath her. She collapsed under her own weight, and cried out in pain when her knees hit the ground. If she had not been about to die, she would have cursed the new bruises that were sure to form.

Then, it hit her– it being the overwhelming stench that preceded him. The smell of death.

"Stop!" she screamed, when the orc was but five feet from her. She quickly raised her hands to show her intent for peace.

Briefly, pleadingly, she prayed that he could understand even a little of the Common tongue. To her surprise, he actually stopped in his tracks. Then, to her further shock, the giant sword fell from his hands. Layla was certain now that the odor did, indeed, originate from him. Now that he was closer, she could see how battered his armor was, and the blood that trickled out from under the right side of his breastplate onto his greaves.

"You're hurt. So am I. But we're no threat to each other. I can help you. Please, let me help you." She looked up at where the orc's eyes were hidden under his helmet, and her voice quivered as she fought back the sting of tears in her eyes. She did not want to die. "A truce?" she offered, plaintively.

Grom'thor could no longer hold his sword - it had been lucky for the human that she had yelled when she did. He looked her over once more, and he could see how true what she said was - as he did understand the clumsy language of the humans. The little thing was hurt, and likely as weak as him. There would be no honor in killing her. But offering to help him?

He snorted. "You lie, little one," he said in heavily accented Common.

By the Light, he had understood her and could speak Common as well. Normally, Layla would have taken affront at what the orc had called her - but now was not the time to waste energy being offended.

"No, no, I don't." Could what she had in mind truly work? "I am a priestess. I can heal you when I've rested and regained strength. In the meantime, though, I have bandages, potions, and herbs to help treat more significant wounds that cannot wait."

Was she mad? The human was telling him what was in her bags. Grom'thor could easily kill her where she knelt and take her healing aids for himself. However, he winced as more sweat fell into his eyes and the ground seemed to spin beneath him. No, it was not possible for him to tend to himself in his current state.

"Fine," he growled, his voice laced with pain. "A truce."

Layla's heart soared. It was still possible that she could get out of this wasteland alive. "Go to the cave." She pointed weakly in its direction. "Give me your water skins, I'll fill them."

Grom'thor did not like that she was giving him orders, but she was not wrong. He pulled the skins from his belt and tossed them at her. After staring uncertainly at the tiny thing for a while longer, he gingerly bent over to pick up the hilt of his sword. With an added glare as an unsaid warning, he cautiously turned his back to the woman, and headed for the cave, with his sword slowly dragging behind him.

Meanwhile, Layla scrambled for her own water skins and practically crawled the remaining distance to the edge of the lake. Once filled, the four skins would be heavy, and she still needed to grab her staff - but she would manage. The water was blissfully cold on her hot skin as she dunked the water skins in order to fill them. When she was finished, she crawled back to her staff and used it to help herself stand. She returned to where she had left the skins and picked them up by the strong strings usually used to hook them up to belts.

Pausing a moment to let her racing heart settle, she looked toward the cave. She could not see the orc anymore, so he had most likely made it to the cave. Now, it was time for her to join him and live up to her promise.

Once he had reached the cave the little human had pointed out, he had dropped his sword at the entrance. His fingers and wrists could not stand to carry its weight anymore. The orc took in the cave before he gave in to his fatigue and lowered himself to the stone floor. It was a small cave, but it would still be big enough for him and the human woman to occupy together. They would also be well protected by the elements while they each regained their strength. He breathed in deeply and enjoyed the cooler air and darker light in the cave as he waited.

The priestess's staff joined the orc's sword with an unceremonious clatter at the front of the cave. With a sharp breath, she inhaled the cool air of the cave and shivered. The coolness was a wonderful relief on her hot and sweaty skin. Layla moved over to the orc and quickly sat beside him before her knees gave out again. The last thing she wanted to deal with was broken kneecaps.

She uncorked one of his water skins and put it in the gloved hand of the orc. "Drink."

He seemed to grunt in dislike over her command, but she was not entirely sure the orc was still conscious. He was no fool, however, and quickly brought the skin to his lips. Layla was pleased that the orc was drinking slowly. She had seen firsthand the perils of drinking too fast when severely dehydrated. If he threw the water up, it would only add to the stench that was quickly permeating the cave.

With a pop of the cork from one of her own water skins, she began to drink slowly as well. She would do neither of them any good if she fainted from thirst. Once she had drunk enough water for the moment, she placed the plugged skin by her side and shrugged off the heavy weight of her traveling pack. It was time to get to work.

"You stink," she said aloud, before realizing she had done so.

He growled in disgust and set the water skin aside. "Humans all say the same things of orcs." It was a stereotype that orcs never, or hardly ever, bathed and stank something foul.

"No, that's not what I meant," Layla said, slightly agitated.

She reached for his helmet and slowly pulled it off the orc's head. If she was to treat him properly, she had to get him out of his armor. More specifically, she had to find the wound - or wounds - that caused the stench of death. Dark, sweaty hair that clung to his head and neck was revealed upon removal of the helmet. At one time, it had been parted into two braids that would have gone just slightly past his shoulders. Now, little of his hair was tied back with the dark brown leather thongs that clung to stay on. The rest was loose, dirty and matted.

His tusks were smaller than Layla had anticipated. They did not rise up into sharp, dangerous points. In fact, the tops were flat and it occurred to her that both had been broken. As the left tusk was significantly shorter than the other was, it was the most likely explanation.

When she examined his face, their eyes met, and each started at the other a moment. Layla noticed his rich, dark brown eyes, while Grom'thor stared up at her crystal blue ones.

Layla cleared her throat. "What I meant was, you have a wound, or more, that's festered. You stink of death, and if I'm to help you at all, I need your help removing your armor." It was a wonder he did not smell it himself, but she kept that to herself, this time.

Grom'thor grunted as he began to slowly sit up. While what she said was no surprise, it still angered him that he had been so badly injured. If this human managed to keep him alive, he knew it would be nothing short of a miracle that he had found her at all. "Fine," was all he said.

He began to pull off his gloves while she began to unclasp his pauldrons and breastplate. Layla's fingers trembled from exhaustion, but she pressed on. She had a promise to keep, after all. The orc's almost ridiculously large hands helped her peel the heavy plate away from his body. Almost instantly, the stench increased twofold. Her nose wrinkled at the grotesque smell, and if it were not for the dire straight he was in, he would have laughed at the ridiculous face she had made.

Underneath his breastplate was a rough-spun brown tunic, stained and cracked by dried blood. Layla quickly took note that most of the blood was indeed on his right side as she had surmised earlier, but first the tunic and the rest of the orc's armor needed to be removed.

"Your boots," she managed to mutter as she tried not to breathe in too much of the pungent odor.

As he, with no small amount of pain, began to unbuckle his boots, she searched through her pack. She knew that the tunic was most likely stuck to his wounds, and would need to be cut off. Thankfully, she carried a dagger for such a purpose.

When Grom'thor heard the clang of something metal being pulled out, he turned to growl at the small human. "What do you think you are doing?"

Layla remained calm. "I told you everything needs to come off." She put an emphasis on "everything". "I'll need to cut the tunic off, or risk you worsening you injuries further by pulling it over your head. I did promise to help you," she reminded him.

After a staring at her with his eyes narrowed, he relented. "Fine." He tossed his boots aside and began to unfasten his greaves and belt as she unclasped his bracers.

Soon enough the orc was back down on the cave floor in his small clothes, and she cut open his tunic - only to reveal his badly beaten broad chest. Grom'thor roared in pain as she painstakingly pulled it away from all the dried blood on his right side. She cringed as the loud sound reverberated back and forth across the cave. Layla, accustomed though she was to gruesome sights, had to cover her mouth for a moment when she laid eyes on the full extent of the damage. The gash was large, almost from armpit to hip. It was deep, and she could have sworn she could see a bit of the orc's ribs.

It was clearly infected, and most definitely the reason for the stench of death. Puss oozed from the wound, and the wound itself was grossly discolored. Her empty stomach churned at the sight. She wondered, in amazement, how flies were not swarming around the orc. The injury required her immediate attention, but...

"Your small clothes will have to come off."

Layla blushed. She had seen many naked men in her days, but this would be her first orc.

"My what?" Grom'thor growled, as he still seethed from the pain of having the tunic removed.

"Your loincloth," she said, not able to look back at the brown eyes that peered at her.

The loincloth, made from the same material as the tunic, rode over the orc's hips and covered plenty of skin - skin that could have cuts that risked infection were they to be ignored. Of course, there was no doubting the large gash on his torso would take a lot of attention.

"Your name," he finally said with a beleaguered sigh.

"My what?" Layla was startled at his request.

"Your name, girl. I don't get naked for women I don't know the names of, even healers. Your name, now." Then, in an attempt to sound not quite as harsh as he was sure he did, he said. "I am Grom'thor, son of Agro'gon, son of Thor'mar."

She blushed again when Grom'thor mentioned getting naked. While she always tried to be clinical when dealing with a nude patient, the orc was making it a bit difficult. Still, she was grateful to have his name.

"Layla, my name is Layla," she said. "Now please, while I respect any wish for modesty, I will need to make sure there are no other injuries that risk infection."

Grom'thor grunted his approval, and she took to the awkward task of removing his small clothes.

She could not ask him to do it himself, for that would require sitting up again, and he clearly was in enough pain already. Layla was thankful that his loincloth was only tied together. That would make the task slightly easier. She untied the rough cloth, and the underside fell off his hips, to the stone floor. Hesitantly, she picked up the portion that covered his front and did a cursory glance over his skin.

Although she did her best to keep her eyes averted from Grom'thor's manhood, she was not as successful as she would have wanted. Though flaccid, it was rather sizeable and a slightly darker green compared to the rest of his skin. There was no way for her to avoid noticing that he was also uncut. Forcing herself to look away, she focused at the task at hand. While he did have some scrapes, they were minor and could be tended to later. In an effort to help him not feel overly exposed, as well to keep her from feeling constantly mortified, she laid the cloth back over his private parts. The rest of his skin, however, she left uncovered so it could breathe.

The orc, meanwhile, had kept his eyes staring straight up at the roof of the cave. It did not please him to be exposed so much to a human. Such exposure to an enemy was a sign of weakness although he knew that for the meantime, Layla was not his enemy. Still, she was a woman, and a woman of any race so close to a man's more sensitive areas could be problematic. He tensed when a strand of her hair touched his thigh. Just how close was she going to look?

He was most relieved when he felt the cloth covering himself again. Now, would she finally get to work on his blasted side? Grom'thor let out a hiss of pain when she did just that.

Layla had grabbed a clean cloth and a cleansing potion infused with her healing magics. She applied a small amount to the cloth as she moved over to his right side. Slowly, carefully, and tenderly, she began to clean the gash. The magic of the potion worked quickly. While it would not heal him completely or immediately, it would begin to curb the infection and help along the natural healing process. When her strength returned, she could heal it completely, but that was still some time off.

Once she was halfway done, she went back to her pack for more clean washcloths. Grom'thor groaned and stirred. He had grown silent as Layla had tended to him, and the sounds he now made distressed her. She reached her hand to his sweaty brow, and promptly cursed herself. The orc had a fever. By the Light, she should have known he would.

Quickly, she pulled a different potion from her pack. She was thankful that she always traveled well prepared, though a well-stocked bag did not always prevent journeys from going wrong. Gently, she shook him by the left shoulder in order to stir him. His brown eyes fluttered open for a moment to stare at her.

"You have a fever," she said as she opened the potion bottle. "Drink this - it will help."

Without any question or noise this time, the orc did as he was told once she placed the lip of the bottle at his dry green lips. She slowly poured the liquid into his mouth, and he gulped it all down. When the bottle was empty, she took a hold of his water skin and offered him water to drink. She knew the potion tasted horrible, but what it lacked in taste it made up in healing power. Grom'thor's eyes were barely open, but he drank down the water Layla offered him. When he had had his fill, he turned his head away.

Now that he was finished, she swapped his skin for her own, and took several long swallows of the refreshingly cool lake water. She wiped her mouth with her arm when she had finished, and winced in pain. The right sleeve of her robe had been torn near to shreds, and as such, her arm had gotten plenty of sun exposure. Her arm burned, as did her face, neck and chest. Layla had known she would be badly sunburnt, but it was only now that the pain and throbbing settled in.

Buried somewhere in her pack was a special healing balm she made herself for sunburns. Yet, Grom'thor was still in dire need of her attention. She could not justify spending time to heal herself when she knew she should wait until he had been completely helped to the best of her ability.

Layla picked the washcloths back up and gently scooted to Grom'thor's right side. She was relieved that the orc had been able to fall asleep. Not only did he need the rest, but also he did not react as violently when she treated an extremely sore spot on his gash. Not having to dodge a flailing giant arm in her own weakened state made her job much easier.

She was thankful that she had chosen to use the cleansing potion in conservative amounts. Layla still had a long way to go in order to battle the stench that made bile rise in the pit of her stomach.

Her focus on his hideous wound had made her lose track of time. A look outside the cave, combined with the fact that she still had light in the cave, was all she needed to know that it was still daylight. She wiped sweat from her brow with one of the tattered edges of her sleeve. All that was left, now, was to pack the wound with healing herbs and bandage it all together. There were not enough herbs in her bag to do as thorough a job as she would have liked, but every little bit would help.

With delicate care, she placed the herbs over Grom'thor's open side. He was still asleep, but the herbs would cause a stinging sensation worse than the cleansing potion had. If he woke now in a violent way, it could prove disastrous for everything she had worked on. Thankfully he did not stir from his fevered sleep. Taking her water skin, she wet the bandages just enough so that they would stick to his skin, but not his wound.

Finally, she was finished. Layla sighed deeply as the cave walls slowly spun around her. She was so tired, so exhausted. On all fours, she crawled over to her pack on the orc's left side. When she fell asleep, she wanted to be far enough away from the bandaged wound to let it breathe, so that she would not accidentally remove it in her sleep. Her hand trembled as she searched for that healing balm for her sunburns. In what was probably too much of a hurry, she smeared the milky paste over her affected skin. It caused the burns to tingle in delightful relief and filled her nose with a sweet smell.

Satisfied enough with her hasty job, she allowed sleep to take over her body. For the first time she relaxed on the cool stone floor. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and the last thought she remembered was how strange and funny it was to fall asleep next to an orc.


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter contains male/female nudity with some explicit sexual situations._

_I own nothing. Please enjoy._

Grom'thor's eyes slowly opened. With little surprise he noted that it was the middle of the night. Outside the moon was full, or near enough to fill the cave with its silver light. He shifted on his back, and groaned as he felt and remembered the pain on his side. Grom'thor gently touched himself where the gash had been and found a bandage instead. The human, Lalya, had lived up to her promise. As the fog of sleep lifted from his mind Grom'thor felt a numbing and stinging sensation under the bandage.

Most likely the herbs she had mentioned having, Grom'thor thought to himself. Every so often he felt a strange sensation of his wound draining. While it was a sickly feeling, Grom'thor was very thankful to be alive and healing.

He lifted a hand to his brow, vaguely remembering Layla saying he had a fever. His mouth quickly remembered the vile taste of the potion she had given him. Grom'thor chuckled softly. His mother had always said the worse medicine tasted, the better it worked. Clearly this was so with the little priestess's potion, for his fever had broken some time during his sleep.

A cool night breeze gently swooped through the cave and Grom'thor shivered. He had forgotten he was practically naked. Still, he was thankful for the breeze. It meant a wave of fresh air in the cave, and after his body had been practically boiling with heat from fever and sun it was refreshing on his skin.

A soft groan stirred Grom'thor from his musings. He turned his head in the direction of the noise and saw Layla fast asleep, and shivering. Even though he had been thinking about her, Grom'thor had practically forgotten she would still be in the cave with him. When she continued to shiver even after the breeze had passed, it occurred to him that she could be genuinely cold. After all, Layla was considerably smaller than himself, which meant less muscle and fat to keep warm on a cold fireless night.

Grom'thor silently cursed himself as he stared up at the rocks above him. Was he really considering doing what he was thinking of? Yes, in fact, he really was. Layla was within arm's length of him, and for what he was about to do Grom'thor thanked the stars above that Layla had gone to sleep on his left side.

He reached out his muscular arm to the sleeping priestess and pulled her close. The extra warmth seemed to make Layla stop shivering almost immediately. Grom'thor sighed as he settled his arm around her and rested his hand on her hip. He looked down at Layla and studied her, uninterrupted.

Grom'thor was easily well over a foot taller than the woman. She looked so small nestled against his body. The silver light from the moon shone over her face. It was then that he noticed she had a paste of some sort smeared over her face and arms. And chest, he noted with a downward glance. The robe that Layla wore was low cut enough to show a decent hint of cleavage. Or was it because of how he had pulled her to him, and that her chest was pressed up against him?

He shifted his hips uncomfortably. With Layla to one side, and his healing wound on the other Grom'thor was stuck on his back. To make matters worse, he could feel that particular throb start in his groin. While Grom'thor wasn't pleased by that, he understood why it was happening. Yes, Layla wasn't an orc, but there was no denying she had all the parts he found attractive in an orc female. An ample bosom, a small waist and a flare of hips that the old wives tales suggested meant a good child bearer. Though he was reluctant to check, Grom'thor was certain Layla had a pleasingly round ass.

Regardless of her race, Layla was an undeniably attractive female. Even if she did look ridiculous right now with the paste smeared all over. He assumed it was a balm of sorts for her sun burns. Grom'thor smiled sarcastically to himself and groaned. He just had to be a breast and ass man.

He was semi erect now. There was nothing Grom'thor could do about it, even if he had wanted to. Moving his right arm would risk straining his injury, and his left was wrapped around Layla. Plus, there was the undeniably fact that Layla would find any mess he made. That was an awkward conversation Grom'thor did not want to have with the human.

Grom'thor held Layla protectively tight against him. She might be the cause of his stirred needs, but Grom'thor owed her his life. He would survive a night with her so close. With a tired sigh, Grom'thor closed his eyes. Sleep was his best, and only, option. He hoped for vivid dreams of luscious green orc women.

The warmth of the sun's morning rays and light chirping of birds awoke Layla from her dreamless sleep. Her eyes not yet open, she stretched and cuddled back up against the hard masculine body she had been using as a pillow. Wait, what? Layla's eyes shot open to survey her surroundings. In her sleep she had completely forgotten about Grom'thor. She remembered falling asleep near him, but not in his arms!

Layla was thoroughly startled, but suppressed the want to scurry away. Grom'thor was still fast asleep, and she did not want to wake him. He was still recovering, and needed every minute of sleep he could get, but Layla did not want him awaking to her curled against him either. Layla tried to delicately move away from the sleeping orc, but instead he groaned and pulled her closer in his sleep. A stunned look washed over her face. There was no way Grom'thor knew what he was doing, but it shocked her nonetheless.

Before attempting to get away again, Layla looked over her patient. His body was dry of sweat, and she tentatively checked his brow. His fever was gone, most likely broken during the night while they both slept. That was a good sign. Layla looked to see if any of his smaller wounds had become infected over the night, and that was when she saw it.

The unmistakable bulge underneath the scrap of his loincloth. Layla flushed. She knew the cause, just a simple and average nocturnal erection that all men experienced. Morning wood was the vulgar term most often used. But it was still awkward and embarrassing to wake up in the arms of a man she hadn't shared a bed with and find him erect. Layla tore her gaze away from the bulge and tried desperately to not think of how big it looked.

Grom'thor stirred in his sleep again, and Layla took the chance to escape his grasp. She had work to attend to. For starters, the wash cloths from the previous day needed washing, along with her clothes and herself.

Layla stood up in the cave and stretched. She could feel her strength and magic returning. A bath, some more water, and food with make her feel even better. She still ached, perhaps even more so than yesterday, but she was alive. Layla couldn't have been in a better mood.

She bent down over her pack to find a bar of specially handcrafted soap. Layla was looking forward to a thorough scrub. Then she grabbed the pile of dirty cloths, wincing as she disturbed the smell they harbored. They definitely couldn't be kept lying around any longer. When she stepped out of the cave and into the sun Layla winced in the bright light and squinted.

The lake looked just as refreshing today as it had yesterday. How she longed to dive right in. Layla dropped the wash cloths by the edge of the water and began to disrobe. Just as Grom'thor's tunic had stuck to his wound, her robe and underclothes stuck to her own cuts and scrapes. Peeling the soft cloth away from her skin hurt and stung something awful, but Layla bit down on her lip to not cry aloud. She did not want to awake Grom'thor with any loud noises. She wanted to be naked in private.

Layla dipped a toe into the crystal waters. She shivered, and goose bumps rose on her arms. The water was wonderfully cold, even with the morning sun out in full force. With the bar of soap in hand, Layla entered the water without further hesitation. She wanted to hoot and holler at how fantastic the water was, but Layla stayed quiet. Standing chest deep in the water Layla began to wash herself. First she wiped away the sun burn balm. It had worked well, for her arms and chest were almost completely back to their normal creamy color. Her presence in the water made it too rippled to get a clear reflection of her face, but Layla assumed the balm had done the same wonders to her face.

With the balm taken care of Layla worked up a lather from the soap and started to wash her body. First she washed away all the dirt and sweat that felt like it was caked onto her face. Layla moved her soapy hands down her neck and to her shoulders. She furiously scrubbed away the sweat that clung to the back of her neck. Even though she had just started, it was heavenly to be clean again.

She ducked her head under the water for a moment to rinse off the soap. Layla then took the bar of soap to her chest. Her nipples had hardened from the cold temperature of the water, and were uncomfortably sensitive. As Layla washed her breasts, which were more than a handful for her, she moaned softly and daydreamed about bathing with a handsome man. If a man were in the water with her, the sensitivity of her nipples and breasts would be a welcome feeling, not uncomfortable and frustrating.

Layla closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she continued to rub her breasts with soap. She imagined that instead of her own hands, it was a pair of big, strong, masculine hands washing her. He would take his time, teasing her with gentle caresses and rough kneading. He wouldn't miss an inch of her sensitive skin, and would be diligent in making sure her breasts were thoroughly cleaned. A pinch to a nipple caused Layla to moan aloud.

Startled by how much she had lost herself, Layla almost dropped her bar of soap. She looked back toward the cave, her eyes filled with worry that she had been too loud. After a few moments of utter stillness on her part, Layla was satisfied her new friend was still sleeping. Layla sighed with relief and moved on to wash her taut stomach, back and arms. As she went on, a nagging feeling kept tugging at her brain. There was, in fact, a man with big strong hands nearby.

She reflected on waking up in Grom'thor's arms. His large hand had been resting on her hip. His hand was so large, that it would easily have engulfed one of her breasts. And being a warrior, his hands would be rough and calloused. A shiver went down Layla's spine.

No, she thought to herself. She refused to think of Grom'thor, an orc, in a sexual manner. All these thoughts just meant it had been too long since Layla had last been with a man. That was all. It was also true. How long had it been? She surmised that it was most likely pressing on a year. Though she missed the intimate touch of a man, Layla was glad to be out of her last relationship if could have even been called that.

As she started to wash down to her hips, Layla thought back on her past relationships. Her first time had been many years ago, back when she had still been an initiate. She had also still been a teenager, but then, so had her partner. It had been a short, awkward courtship, and truth be told the sex had been even worse. Overall it had been disastrous, but in hindsight Layla knew it was because it was his first time as well. They never saw much of one another after that.

Years later, Layla had met Tomas. He was a dashingly handsome paladin with blonde hair that fell over his ears and into his eyes. She remembered how it had been almost impossible for her to keep her hands off him. Tomas was muscular, with a broad chest and handsome square jaw. Layla shivered again as she thought back. His courtship of her had been romantic, sweet, and wonderful. When they had finally shared a bed, the night had been full of pleasure. He had been so soft, so gentle with Layla that she had orgasmed several times before he had ever entered her.

They had been together for almost two years, and it was Layla herself who had become increasingly unhappy in their relationship. Tomas had fully wakened a sexual need within Layla, one that he was happy to satisfy. To a point. Layla had wanted to experiment, and she had asked Tomas to try being a little rougher with her. Tomas would hear none of it. He was steadfast in his way as a slow, overly gentle to a fault, lover. Layla appreciated his tenderness, loved it even, but after a time she knew she needed a man who would be more open sexually.

Leaving Tomas had led to the last man she had been with. While Layla didn't see him as a mistake, she had certainly stayed with the warlock too long. Octavius had been almost the complete opposite of Tomas. He was arrogant where Tomas had been sweet and kind. And their relationship had been completely different. Layla and Octavius only spent time together when they wanted sex. There had been no romance, no attachment. Just sex. It had been great sex, too. Octavius was rougher with Layla by far, though he had always stopped when Layla told him to.

She looked back fondly on the first night he had chained her to his bed. He was creative, and open to try anything Layla asked. But she had found something lacking; the tenderness Tomas had shown her. It was then that Layla had realized she needed a man who could be both, tender and rough as the need arose. A real romantic relationship where they could make love slowly, tenderly, passionately one night, and the next night fuck with wild abandon until they collapsed with exhaustion.

She had stopped meeting with Octavius, and now here she was with still no man in her life. Layla washed her legs, intentionally ignoring where they met as her core burned with want. She knew she'd have to wash there eventually, but avoided it for now. Finished with her legs, Layla moved on to wash her waist length hair. With a rich lather she scrubbed hard at her scalp to remove all the oil and dirt that was matting up her hair. She took another dunk under the water and held her breath as she rinsed the suds from her hair.

Layla broke the surface of the water with a gasp for air. The last thing Layla wanted was to become more aroused, but she knew her body needed a thorough cleaning. Delicately she moved her hands to her smooth womanhood. As she spread herself Layla could feel how wet she was, and the heat that radiated from her core. When a finger brushed against her sensitive nub, Layla bit back a moan. It took too long for her tastes, but finally Layla had finished washing and succeeded in not pleasuring herself. She was bound to feel stressed for a while today, but this oasis was not the proper place for Layla to indulge herself.

Instead, Layla turned her focus to her clothes that needed washing. She retrieved her panties, supportive undershirt, and long underskirt and soaked them thoroughly. Soon enough her underclothes were clean and drying in the sun on some nearby rocks. Though she wanted to wash her robe next, Layla needed the wash cloths clean for when she changed Grom'thor's bandage. One by one she paid close attention to each individual smelly rag, and one by one fresh clean wash cloths were lined up to dry in the sun. Lastly, Layla washed her robe. The sleeves and hem were badly damaged and Layla would have to make some alterations to it when she had the chance if she wanted to look a bit more presentable.

All done with her washing chores, Layla stepped out of the lake and the warm air and heat of the sun quickly dried her wet skin. With her robe still drying she would have to wear her underclothes for a while. Plus, the lack of long sleeves would be helpful as there would be nothing to get in her way while she worked. Layla pulled on her clean white panties, followed by her white underskirt. The hem of the underskirt had also become a bit tattered, but that was yet another chore for later. Layla slipped her white undershirt, which was really more of a band than an actual shirt, over her head and adjusted her breasts so they rested comfortably under the supportive cloth.

Layla's stomach rumbled. It reminded her that she hadn't eaten in far too long and needed food. She looked around the oasis. Surely there would be something edible around.

When Grom'thor awoke again the cave was filled with sunlight. He turned his head to look for Layla, but she was nowhere to be found. Grom'thor grunted. He had hoped he would wake before her so he wouldn't have to explain why she had slept so close to him. Too late now.

Grom'thor stretched his arms and instantly regretted it. The movement pulled at his injury and it was painful. Quickly he returned his arms to his side. He decided to stretch his legs instead, that hurt much less. It was then that Grom'thor fully realized that he was rock hard. He groaned in dismay, and hoped that he had not been like that when the priestess had woken up. Yet another awkward thing he didn't want to have to explain.

"Yes, you woke up in my arms while I also happened to be completely hard," he grumbled softly to himself.

Since Layla wasn't in the cave, and not within sight of what he could see from the cave Grom'thor wondered where she was. He worried that she might have been attacked by something. Or worse, had left him here. Her travel pack off to his side told Grom'thor how ridiculous that was. The first worry, however, was still plausible.

Very slowly Grom'thor began to rise to a sitting position. The gash at his side wasn't pleased, but he needed to sit up. Most importantly he had to find an area away from the cave to relieve himself. And also determine where his little healer had gone to.

It was as he contemplated how best to stand with as little injury to himself as possible that Layla returned. Grom'thor found himself dumbstruck as he stared at her. It was clear Layla had taken advantage of the lake and had a bath. A luxury he wished he could partake in as well. She had scrubbed every inch of herself clean, and Grom'thor would have sworn she sparkled in the sunlight. Layla looked completely different to the woman he had met the day before.

Her hair no longer clung to her forehead and neck in sweaty clumps. Even though the auburn strands weren't brushed the color shone under the sunlight, and moved freely in the air. And her clothes. What she wore now was completely different. Layla was clad completely in white, and she had so much skin showing. The strip of cloth that covered her breasts hugged her body tightly and left her midriff completely exposed. Grom'thor found himself pleased that her stomach was not just flat, but she had a bit of muscle as well. Her skirt seemed to hang on the lowest possible point of her hips, and had the hem bundled up in her hands over her knees. Layla was bound to be carrying something in the pouch she had created, but Grom'thor was too busy looking at her legs to wonder what it was.

For what seemed like an eternity Layla stood still outside the cave as Grom'thor stared. He ignored the throbbing pain in his groin. Grom'thor was harder than ever, and there was no denying that Layla was the cause. His body ached for the touch of a woman, and since Layla was bound to touch him soon, every nerve ending was on fire. Clearly it had been too long since he had been with a woman if just some kindness and a night asleep with a human woman made his body react this way.

Layla walked the rest of the way into the cave, a bright smile on her face. She had found some edible berries and roots, and was pleased to see Grom'thor awake. The fact that he was sitting up had her a tad worried that he may have agitated his healing wound, but she would deal with that in time. First, food.

"Good morning," she said brightly as she sat down beside him and began to show off the food she had found. "I managed to find some food. I know it's not much, but it'll do for now."

"Thanks," he grumbled out. Layla offered him a piece of root and a handful of berries from her skirt. The berries quickly made their way to his mouth and down his throat. The berries weren't bad. Neither was the root, for that matter. Grom'thor chewed on the root as his eyes moved between Layla's face and the entrance of the cave.

She picked up on his eye movements. "Is something wrong? Are you in a lot of pain? Has your fever come back?" Layla leaned forward and placed a hand on his brow. Her bosom rubbed against his arm. Layla suppressed a soft moan as she felt her nipples harden again.

Grom'thor's nerves were electrified. He could not look at her straight in the face. "I'm fine, woman," he said gruffly and brushed her hand away from him. "I need to relieve myself, if you don't mind."

"Oh. Oh!" Layla blushed, understanding what he meant. "Here, let me help you up." She deposited the food onto the floor. Grom'thor didn't exactly want her help, but he knew he needed it. As they both stood up together however, his loin cloth fell to the floor.

Well shit. They had both forgotten about that. Now he stood in the cave, completely naked and fully erect with her arms around his torso. Layla gulped and tried to avert her gaze from his groin. He was even larger than she thought he would be. She doubted if her hand would be able to completely wrap around his penis.

Why was she thinking like that? Layla admonished herself. "Um, if it makes you feel any better, I'm in my underclothes." Layla said in an attempt to break the ice.

That, in fact, did not make him feel any better. She was in her final layer of clothes. A careful, well placed tear would expose her breasts. And did she even wear any panties under that thin skirt? Grom'thor felt his cock twitch. He prayed Layla didn't see that.

"I believe I can make it from here on my own," he said curtly, ignoring what she had said.

"Right, of course," Layla said nervously. "Be careful, please. When you get back you can continue to eat while I tend your injury."

With a nod and a grunt Grom'thor pulled away from Layla's grasp and slowly walked naked out of the cave. All the while he cursed himself.

Layla averted her gaze as Grom'thor left. The poor man didn't need her staring at his butt. She sat back down and continued to eat and drink while she waited for Grom'thor to return. When he walked back into the cave, Layla looked up and she immediately wished she hadn't. While he was flaccid now, she was able to get a good look at his scrotum moving against his thighs. By the Light, would the torturous awkwardness and embarrassment never end?

Without speaking, Layla stood to help Grom'thor back onto the cave floor. Neither could look each other in the eye. Once he was flat on his back Layla went out to retrieve the dry wash cloths before sitting by Grom'thor's right side once more. Grom'thor used a piece of root to bite down on as Layla slowly began to remove his bandage. Layla was relieved that the condition of the gash had greatly improved.

The discoloration had all but vanished. The puss and other vile liquids it had oozed the day before had dried up. There was still some inflammation, but Layla knew that would take a while to die down. Most importantly, it no longer stank of putrefaction. The gash hadn't made much progress in closing though. Now that Layla could see the extent of Grom'thor's injury much more clearly, it was plain it would take time, as well as magic to heal. Whatever the weapon was that had hurt him, it had cut through muscle as well as flesh. There was also the very good chance he had a fractured rib or two.

Layla sighed in thought, and Grom'thor's ears perked. "Hm?" he questioned through a mouthful of berries.

"I think we're going to be here a while. Maybe a week." Now she looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, but I can't risk healing you with magic too quickly. I can still use magic to help it along, don't get me wrong." Her voice trailed for a moment.

"What do you mean a week?" Grom'thor growled.

"I mean the extent of your injury is really bad. The infection is gone, but you've got muscle that needs to knit back together. Possibly a rib fracture, I can't be quite sure. If I try to heal you now, completely, with magic something could go wrong. In trying to repair a fracture, for instance, I could just make it worse. The sliced muscle might not form back together properly, potentially causing frequent if not constant pain." Layla tried to explain her hesitation as best as she could.

Grom'thor couldn't control his frustration. "What good are you then?" He roared. "Are you just some shit ass healer? Couldn't pass initiation trials?"

His accusations made Layla furious. Here she was, trying to help him in the best way possible and he couldn't even appreciate that. "I am an excellent healer!" Layla spat back at Grom'thor. "And it just so happens I know the limitations of magic! I can't stand it when people think healing magic is some great instant cure all! It doesn't always work that way!" her ranting continued. "The more severe the injury, and the older it is, the more just throwing a healing spell its way won't help! If I had been with you the moment you got the injury, I most likely could have solved your problem right then and there. But no. You had to cross who knows how much of this Light forsaken wasteland sweating in dirty underclothes and armor and getting it infected! Then for all I know you did a whole load of crap to inflict further damage on it! So don't get pissy with me that I have to stay a week with a smelly, ugly orc like you because I follow through on my promises! It's all your fault!"

When she was done yelling at Grom'thor at the top of her lungs, Layla turned her head away from him. She was mad, hurt, and trying not to cry. She crossed her arms under her chest and seethed quietly.

He sighed when it became clear she wasn't about to speak to him again. Grom'thor knew he was in the wrong. He had a temper, and he knew it. None of this was her fault. She had gone over and beyond to help him, Grom'thor knew that. He knew some part of him would always be in her debt. And this was how he repaid her? He was a better man than this.

"Layla," he whispered her name and painstakingly lifted his right hand to gently touch her cheek. She bristled when he touched her, but Layla did turn to look at him. Her crystal eyes were watery, and Grom'thor truly felt like a monster. "I'm sorry," he said as he stroked her cheek with his green thumb.

"I'm sorry I called you smelly and ugly," Layla murmured softly. Grom'thor couldn't hold back a small chuckle. He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and she blushed.

Without another word, Layla pulled away from his hand and focused on his wound instead. After making sure it was clean, and adding some more of the cleansing potion to keep it slightly moist Layla placed her hands over Grom'thor's body. He watched her as she began to softly chant a healing spell. Slowly her hands began to glow with a soft golden light. With some stylized hand movements to further cast the spell, Grom'thor felt a warmth course through his body.

The smaller cuts and bruises disappeared in a flash while some of the larger ones took a second or two longer. The inflammation on his right side went down some more, but otherwise remained the same. When Layla had finished casting her healing spell her arms fell down to her sides and her head drooped. It had taken most of her regained strength to cast that spell. After her bath Layla had used a weaker version of the same spell on herself. She had wanted to save as much of her strength as possible for Grom'thor.

"Feel any better now?" She said with a weak smile as she looked back up at Grom'thor. He nodded, too ashamed to speak. Layla picked up a bandage and began to wrap up his wound. "Would you like a bath?" She asked when she had finished.

With mild surprise, Grom'thor asked, "A bath? Wouldn't getting the bandage wet defeat the purpose?"

"Well, more like a sponge bath." Layla admitted. "And really, don't try to argue with your healer. There are some rocks you can sit on, and some longer time spent in the sun will do you good."

Now Grom'thor was certain this woman was going to kill him with unintentional sexual teasing. Still, he didn't argue. "Fine."

As before, Layla helped him to stand and with a wash cloth tied around her bar of soap in hand they slowly walked to the lake. It was easier to walk this time around for Grom'thor. Other than the pain at his side, Grom'thor was feeling as good as new. He quickly chose a rock to rest on and watched as Layla rolled up her skirt to keep it from getting too wet. Grom'thor averted his eyes when she leaned over the water to wet the soap and wash cloth.

"I can wash myself, you know," he grunted as Layla started to wash his back.

"You can, when that gash of yours has healed and you won't split it open." Layla reprimanded him softly.

Never argue with a woman. That's what his father had always told him. Grom'thor rolled his eyes and tried to not think too much about her hands being all over him.

By the time Layla had moved to his chest Grom'thor had fallen asleep. Layla wasn't surprised at all. His body was no doubt working overtime to heal him, and the healing spell she had used would add an extra kick to the orc's natural healing process. She trailed her fingers over his chest as she bathed him. Layla enjoyed the feeling of his hard, strong muscles under her soft skin. His skin wasn't soft, but it wasn't rough either. Layla could only describe it as strong.

When she reached his thighs, Layla tensed. She had to do it. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but being filthy wouldn't help Grom'thor either. Besides, she had gotten a bath, he deserved one too. She swallowed down her uneasiness and returned to work. Layla took an odd delight watching the water fall down his legs as she rinsed him. It was like a green waterfall.

With a deep breath Layla lathered soap in her hands and started to wash the one area of Grom'thor she had been dreading; his groin. With just her hands Layla took a gentle hold of his penis and gently rubbed the lather over it. Grom'thor groaned in his sleep, and his cock began to grow in her hands. Layla gulped, terrified he would wake up. She felt herself getting wet. It was such a feeling to know that a man's penis would get hard from the touch of a woman.

Layla suddenly found herself growing bolder. She stroked his cock with one hand while the other reached down to wash his heavy green balls. Another groan escaped Grom'thor's throat. Layla's eyes were focused on watching what she was doing. She hadn't noticed Grom'thor had opened his eyes.


End file.
